


The Only Thing That Stays the Same

by danke_rose



Series: Vacations and Getaways [7]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Big storm, F/M, Sex, Smut, Telling Ghost Stories, there were plenty of beds but it didn't matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danke_rose/pseuds/danke_rose
Summary: A mission is delayed by a big storm blowing up the coast.  Kurt and Kitty's team hide out in Doug Ramsey's family beach cottage until it passes, telling ghost stories and finding out if change is a good thing or not.
Relationships: Kitty Pryde/Kurt Wagner
Series: Vacations and Getaways [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961269
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	The Only Thing That Stays the Same

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an excuse for sex. I mean, let's be honest. 
> 
> Kitty's story is based on real ghost stories I looked up online. Kurt's is his own.

The tiny cottage appeared to be falling apart from outside, but upon closer inspection, it was only weathered from the sea and sand and storms, paint missing from the shutters, the siding discolored from the constant salt spray. Inside, the rooms were small but tidy, and with the windows open, the ocean could be heard as it pounded against the sand. Had the weather been sunny and bright, and the circumstances slightly different, it could have been a friendly little place.

A storm was brewing, the sky heavy with dark clouds as the wind whipped the sea into a frenzy of foam that bubbled on the sand where it was left behind. Most of the sea birds had fled, and only one lone surfer was braving the gray water. Kitty stood on the porch, staring at the increasing whitecaps while Doug Ramsey ran around inside the cottage securing the shutters.

“Mom said this place was in good shape, but I still don't trust it in a storm,” Doug said when she wandered back inside, her hair coming loose in frizzy wisps from the wind. She shivered and rubbed her arms, going to the hallway to help Kurt, buried in the linen closet digging for sheets and blankets. All she could see was his back half, the rest of him hidden behind the open closet door. Kitty smiled at the way his tail flicked back and forth, keeping him balanced as he reached farther into the impossibly deep closet. Beneath his tail, the perfect curve of his backside made her want to run her hand over it. Fortunately for her willpower, he stood up, a huge stack of linens in his arms.

“At least we are protected from the elements,” Kurt said to Doug and Piotr, as Kitty grabbed half the stack from him before it could topple. “ _Danke_ , Kätzchen,” he added quietly.

Doug, a few paces down the hall, fiddled with the buttons on the thermostat until at last it chugged to life. Warm air rushed through the vents and Doug whooped in triumph. The outside temperature was already dropping with the approaching storm, and the small house was chilly.

“Unless the roof falls in around us,” Piotr answered Kurt gravely, casting a glance at the ceiling.

Kurt laughed. “We'll be fine. We have everything we need here, and when the storm is over, we'll finish our job quickly and go home. _Mission accomplished_. Think of it as an adventure, Piotr.”

“Adventures no longer amuse me, _tovarisch_.”

Kurt bumped Kitty's shoulder and nodded at their friend, standing stoically in front of the only window Doug hadn't closed yet. She shrugged and went to make up the beds in the back rooms.

She'd made a first pass through the cottage when they arrived, but in places like this there were sometimes interesting nooks and crannies that were passed over the first time around. The main front room was the width of the cottage, with a porch running along the exterior. There was a small kitchen, barely the size of Kitty's bathroom at home. The stove only had two burners and the oven might fit a small frozen pizza if it was cut in half.

There was food on the shelves, most of it non-perishable canned and boxed goods. The refrigerator was empty. She wandered back through the main room where Kurt and the others were seated on the floor in a half circle poring over schematics from the lab they planned to raid later, after the storm passed. Kurt reached a hand out to touch hers when she passed, but otherwise, they paid little mind to her. She turned down the hallway on the other side of the fireplace, where there was a cramped bathroom on the right with the basic amenities. Three small bedrooms were crammed into the space meant for two, a renovation Doug's parents had made after they bought it, so more people might be interested in renting during the off-season. The first had a set of bunk beds and a window that overlooked the sea grass, when it wasn't shuttered for weather. The second bedroom was at the back and had a double bed and small table.

They'd already decided to let Piotr have the largest bed, and Kurt and Doug would take the bunks. Kitty would take the middle bedroom, the smallest, with a tiny table beside a single bed. The window, required by code, was placed high enough on the wall that curtains weren't necessary. Her bag sat balanced precariously on the edge of the small table, dumped there carelessly when she made up the bed. Outside, the wind gusted against the side of the house, and Kitty opened the shutters to look outside. It was too high for her, and she rose up on tip-toe to peek out, barely able to see over the bottom of it. More sea grass, laid nearly flat by the wind.

“Anything interesting out there?” Kurt said, startling her.

She yelped, bumping the table and knocking her overnight bag onto the floor. Kurt caught her arm to steady her, and bent to retrieve the bag. When he stood, his face was inches from hers as he set the bag on her bed. He always did things to her heart and her mind, but lately it seemed she couldn't quite keep hold of those feelings. It felt like riding bareback and slipping off sideways.

“I didn't mean to startle you,” he said, his hand still on her arm, thumb rubbing affectionately. “We made some hot cocoa and popcorn. I thought you'd like some.”

“Yeah,” she said, locking the shutters again.

Long ago, Kurt's surprise appearances had always scared her, but over time, she'd gotten used to his sudden entrances. If he noticed her awkwardness, he said nothing. This whole mission, she felt like something between them had been ramped up. Every glance, every touch felt overcharged, and she was in a constant state of breathlessness and tension. She stood up with a quick inhale and found him watching her, that same intensity in his eyes that she felt in her chest.

None of them were in uniform, and, standing there in sweater and jeans, he looked every bit like a fashion model in some trendy catalog. He took a step towards her and she smiled quickly.

“The hot chocolate,” she said brightly. “It'll get cold.”

He gave her shoulder a friendly pat as he followed her into the hallway.

The popcorn was already popped and the hot chocolate was poured when she and Kurt joined Piotr and Doug in the living room. They were already taking up most of the couch, leaving only an armchair for her and Kurt to fight over. He insisted she take the chair and sat on the floor directly in front of her, gripping his hot chocolate in a loop of his tail while he ate his popcorn.

Doug glanced around, a wistful smile on his face. “We had fun in this place when I was a kid. We used to come here pretty often, but lately Mom and Dad've been renting it out more and more. I think they're gonna sell it,” Doug said.

Silence settled around them, and Doug gathered up all the papers, replacing them in the folder. He glanced at Kitty. “You missed the plan,” he said. “Want the update?”

She listened while Doug and the others laid out the plan, even as the house rattled around them as another strong gust blew through.

“Now what?” Piotr said. He sounded like a bored child on vacation.

“We could play a game,” Doug said. He lifted the lid of the coffee table, which revealed stacks of board games and card decks. “We've got, uh,” he lifted the boxes and read off the names, “Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, Apples to Apples, Cards Against Humanity, Rummikub—”

“What?” Kitty reached over Kurt's head and snatched the card game from Doug's hands. “Your parents have Cards Against Humanity here?” She laughed. “I can _not_ see your parents playing this!”

“What is it?” Kurt asked, tipping his head up to look at her.

Kitty swung her feet down beside him and handed him the box. “Just look at it.”

“We have to play this,” he said with a wicked smile after he'd read the box and some of the instructions from inside.

“What kind of game is it?” Piotr asked, looking skeptical.

“It's crazy,” Kitty said. “You'll hate it, Piotr.”

  
  


An hour later, Kitty was doubled over on the chair from laughing so hard, her face pressed into the arm of it, steadying herself with a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Doug's face had turned bright red, but he was holding his own, and Piotr looked slightly nauseated. Kurt kept his composure until Kitty played cards about acrobats and masturbation. When the game ended, Piotr threw his head back on the couch, wiping his hands down his face while Doug hurriedly put the cards away. Kurt twisted around to rest his arms on Kitty's knee.

“You have been holding out on me, Kätzchen.”

“How so?” He laid his chin on his arm and grinned at her. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Naughty, naughty thoughts,” he said, wagging his finger at her.

He had _no idea_. She snorted and shoved his hand away, hoping she wasn't blushing too deeply. Doug found the remote and turned on the television to see if there were any channels available, but his parents had canceled cable. The only channel that came in at all was grainy black and white, and the picture kept jumping.

“Probably the storm messing up the signal,” Kitty said.

Kurt had his back against the chair, tipping his head against her shin, and she ran her fingers through his curly hair before she could stop herself. He went very still and sighed softly. They all sat around for a few minutes, wondering what to do. Outside, the wind howled across the roof.

“What are we doing about dinner?” Doug asked.

“There's pasta in the cabinet,” Kurt said, hopping up off the floor. He caught Kitty's hand and gave it a quick squeeze as he went to the kitchen. He began pulling boxes and jars out of the cupboard and reading the dates. Some he set on the counter and one or two he tossed out. “There's plenty,” he reported.

Doug and Piotr didn't move from the couch, so Kitty got up to help, stretching her arms over her head. She'd spent too long curled up on the chair. Kurt handed her a large pot when she joined him, and she washed it while he rummaged in the drawers for cooking utensils. The kitchen was so small that more than once they bumped into each other. Every time he passed behind her, he put a hand on her hip, and every time he brushed against her backside, she held her breath. It was almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

He leaned against the counter while the spaghetti cooked, and she stirred the sauce to keep it from burning. Whenever she glanced up, she found him watching her.

“Take a picture,” she said, making a face.

“I don't have a camera, unfortunately,” he said earnestly. “Or I would. The steam is making your hair curl around your face like clouds. It's very pretty.”

She didn't know what to say to that, so she stirred the sauce.

Her voice only cracked a little when she said, “I think the spaghetti's done.”

The storm arrived in full force during dinner, with wind battering the walls and windows, shaking the whole cottage. More than once they all exchanged nervous glances, expecting things to start breaking off, but the house held. Kurt's tail hovered around Kitty's feet while they ate. She caught him looking at her when she was slurping up a strand of spaghetti. He handed her another napkin with a smile.

“Doug and Piotr get to wash the dishes,” Kitty declared when dinner was over, giving Kurt a friendly poke in the arm. “Since you and I cooked.”

The two reluctant dishwashers got up with only slight grumbling, and Kitty snickered as she watched the two of them jostle for space in the kitchen. Piotr took up most of it.

“What do you want to do while we wait for them?” she asked.

He took a long time answering, and she wondered what he was thinking. He'd returned to his earlier place on the floor in front of her chair, even though Piotr and Doug had vacated the couch. He hooked one arm around her leg and patted it fondly, resting his head against her knee. She gave in to the desire to touch him, reaching down to curl her fingers through his hair again.

“ _Das fühlt sich gut an_ ,” he said. She could only guess what he'd said, from the words she recognized and the soft, almost sleepy tone of his voice, and the way he sighed. “ _Danke_.”

“You're welcome,” she said just as softly.

“It's very relaxing,” he said.

“You look relaxed.”

He tilted his head up towards her, slowly, and her hand slid down to his neck, brushing against his ear. He started to close his eyes, then suddenly he laughed, pointing at Doug and Piotr. Doug was seated on the counter drying the dishes and reaching behind him to put them away while Piotr washed.

Kitty leaned close to Kurt's ear and said, “Serves them right for not helping with dinner.”

“To be fair, Kätzchen,” he said, turning his head, “There wasn't much room, even for the two of us.”

His lips were inches from hers, and she could see the fine fuzzy hairs growing around the edges, and the crease that formed when they puckered slightly, as they were now.

Piotr dropped the spaghetti pot and Kitty shot upright. “What the hell?”

And then the lights went out.

With all the windows shuttered, there was almost no light in the place. Kurt got up and opened a few at the back of the room, away from the direct force of the wind off the water. The light was dim, but it was enough for the rest of them to avoid colliding with furniture or each other.

“I'll check the breakers,” Doug offered, heading to the hallway. He returned seconds later. “Need a flashlight.”

He scrounged through one of the drawers in the kitchen, and then a drawer in a living room table, scratched his head, and announced he couldn't find one.

“I'll help you,” Kurt offered, and joined Doug in the hall.

Piotr put his hand on the back of Kitty's chair. “This mission is a failure already,” he said.

“No it isn't, Piotr. It's delayed, that's all.”

“I don't like this place. And I don't like that game. And I don't—”

“I get it, Piotr. You're miserable. _Sorry_. Why don't you go to bed?”

“I am not miserable,” he insisted, pouting down at her.

“Fine.” Kitty got up and went to one of the unshuttered windows to look out. Wind lashed the sea grass and in the distance, she could see a street sign wavering. She couldn't see much of the neighbor's house, but there were other houses in the distance that looked as dark as theirs. None of the street lights were on, either, and it was dark enough to warrant them.

Kurt and Doug returned unsuccessful.

“It doesn't seem to be the breakers,” Doug said.

Kitty waved at the window. “Looks like electricity's out for the whole neighborhood.”

It was no surprise, the way the wind was whipping up.

“I am going to bed,” Piotr announced.

“It's seven-thirty, Piotr,” Kurt said, patting him on a thick shoulder. “Stay up with us. We can tell ghost stories or something equally mindless and amusing.”

Before Piotr could object, Doug let out an enthusiastic cheer. “Yes! Ghost stories! That's a great idea! I'll grab some blankets.”

He hurried down the hall before anyone could reply, returning with a pile of blankets. Piotr sat down on the couch in resignation while the rest of them took up their usual spots again. The light outside was almost gone, even with the shutters open, and the cottage had become almost pitch black. Doug had found a single votive candle in a jar in one of the bedrooms, and a book of matches in the kitchen drawer. Now they had the feeble light of a _SeaSpray_ scented candle to light the room.

Kitty settled back onto the chair, dangling one leg beside Kurt, who remained on the floor. He hooked his arm around her ankle and laughed when her blanket fell over his face while she was adjusting it.

“Who's got a good one?” Doug asked, looking around. Piotr shook his head and crossed his arms, still determined to be unhappy.

“I don't know if this qualifies as a ghost story,” Kurt began, “but there was a strange thing that happened once when I was a boy.”

“Go ahead,” Doug said, self-appointed head of the ghost-story-telling.

“We were traveling from Stuttgart, on a long stretch of empty road, when night fell. It was a very dark, wooded area with no city lights, and Margali's generator had run out of fuel. It happened now and then, but it was never much of an issue.”

As he talked, he rubbed absently at her ankle. Kitty wasn't sure if her shivers were from the story or his touch.

“It was very dark without the generator of course, and Margali lit a few candles while we ate. Everything was fine until she blew them out and we tried to go to sleep.” He paused and looked around at them.

“What happened?” Kitty said. At the other end of the couch, even Piotr was paying attention.

“Something started scratching at the door. At first, we thought it was a tree branch in the wind, or some little forest critter poking around. But it continued, and we realized it was not the random sound such things would make. It was regular.”

He paused again for dramatic effect, a natural showman. Everyone was silent, listening.

“Margali finally got up to see what it was. She was never afraid of much,” he said, with a short laugh. “She lit one of the candles and opened the door a crack. The scratching stopped immediately. Stephan and Jimaine and I were all sitting up in bed by then, watching Margali. She shut the door, and said there was nothing there. But as soon as it closed, the scratching began again.”

“You're making this up,” Doug said.

“I'm not,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “It really happened. I was twelve.”

Kitty touched his hand on her shoulder. “Then what?”

“Margali turned back to the door, but instead of opening it, she blew out the candle and called me down from my bunk.”

“Oh, god, she made _you_ look out there?” Kitty's mouth gaped. “You were a kid!”

He shrugged. “ _Ja_ , but a kid who could see in the dark without assistance. So I went to the door and opened it a little crack, as she had done. Do you know what I saw?” He glanced around at each of them in turn, drawing out the suspense while he waited. His finger trailed down her calf and raised goosebumps. She shivered again, definitely from his touch.

When no one answered, Kurt said, “Absolutely nothing. There was nothing there. But when we shut the door and got back into bed...”

Kurt turned a wide grin around the room. “It started up again. It continued all night, and none of us slept at all. As soon as the sky turned the slightest hint of pink, it stopped. We never stopped on that stretch of road again.”

“I do not believe you,” Piotr said, crossing his arms more firmly over his barrel chest.

“Lighten up, Piotr,” Kitty said. “I've got one.”

Piotr sighed heavily, but Kurt turned around to face her. She pulled her foot back onto the chair, afraid that if he continued touching her, she'd forget her story.

“When I lived in Chicago, there were always stories floating around. We had a neighbor once who used to work at Loyola University, and he would tell us about the creepy stuff that happened there. There was an old building on campus, the Mundelein Building. It used to be a private women's college run by some nuns. They lived on the top floors. The story goes that one of the nuns died up there, and if you go into the room where it happened, you can hear humming.” Kitty continued telling about the creepy noises and light that wouldn't stay off, and the phone that rang at the same time every night with no one on the other end.

The light from the candle flickered ominously and they all stared at it until it once again flared brightly.

“My turn,” Doug said. “We used to live on a cul-de-sac in our old neighborhood. It was nice, and the neighbors were pretty cool. But the people who lived next door were really strange. They never came out, never had deliveries, and their lawn was dead. Dried up, no grass. The house was falling apart, but every night there was this weird noise coming out of their basement. The guy across the street swore they were burying people in the back yard.”

“Doug,” Kitty said flatly, “That's just the plot of _The 'Burbs_.”

Doug looked like he was about to argue, then caved. “Okay, yeah, it is. Sorry, I don't have any real spooky stories.”

“That movie isn't even scary,” Kitty said.

“Okay, okay! I don't have any good ghost stories, all right?”

“I have another,” Kurt said, and began to tell a story about a strange woman who joined their circus for only one year. He was an excellent storyteller, and with the dark house and storm outside, she found herself wishing she could sit beside him. When he reached the part where she looked at him with glowing eyes, Kitty slid off the chair and plunked onto the floor beside him. He didn't miss a beat, just put his arm around her and continued the story.

When he was done, Kitty whispered, “You really think she did all that?”

“Some of it, for sure. We don't know about all of it, though,” he said. “But after she left, we never had that kind of trouble again.”

“I have had enough of this,” Piotr announced, getting up. “Good night all of you.”

Doug got up, too, and reclosed the shutters at the back. The black of night didn't offer any benefit to them. “I hope it won't be too cold tonight,” he muttered as he went down the hall.

Kitty didn't move. The back of Kurt's fingers moved up and down her arm and he wrapped the other around her waist. He laid his chin on her shoulder and said, “Now what?”

“I guess...I guess we should go to bed, too.” She swallowed and didn't bother to clarify herself.

His hand slipped over her skin to grasp her fingers. She didn't move.

“You're not afraid, are you?” he said, his voice husky and low, not teasing.

“No. Not of ghosts.” She watched his fingers sliding between hers, in and out. Her heart seemed to be beating faster than usual.

“Of what then?”

God he was so close, she was practically in his lap, and he brushed his cheek over hers and kissed her temple. His hand moved to her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder. Her heart and her breath and her body were ready to go, but her mind was hesitant. Stepping over this line was a permanent change. This, flirting and playing around could be explained away as playfulness, but the words...

“Changes,” she whispered, barely able to get the single word out. His hand felt so good in her hair, strands catching in the fuzz on his fingers and tugging gently, a scalp massage by accident.

“Sometimes change is good.”

“Sometimes it isn't, though. Sometimes...things go wrong.”

“Kätzchen, you know I would keep you safe, in every possible way.”

She reached for his face, finding it by touch in the dark, and laid her hand on his cheek. “Does it scare you?”

“This?” He brought his hand to her face and brushed his thumb across her lips. She closed her eyes, leaning into the sensation.

“This.”

“Yes. A little,” he said. “But I trust you, Kätzchen, with my life and...with my heart.”

“You're not playing with me, are you?” she said. “If you are, please tell me now.”

He let out a soft little sigh. “I'm not playing with you, Kätzchen. I wouldn't do that to you. I am utterly sincere, but only say the word and I will stop, we will be friends, and you will never know I ever considered anything else.”

She put her other hand on his face, cradling him. “No, don't do that.” She stroked his cheeks, angling her fingers into his hair and over the edges of his ears. “Kiss me.”

His tipped her chin up and the warmth of his mouth covered hers, a light press that made her gasp. She'd imagined the scene a thousand times, tried to picture his face and the feel of his lips, but this was nothing like her dreams. She hadn't imagined he would be so soft, so pliant, so delicious. She tangled her fingers in his hair, angling her body towards him on the floor. Slowly he moved his hands to her shoulders and her back, teasing a line down her neck with the tip of his tail so that she arched into him.

Her nerves felt like static, urging her ever closer to him, every part of her desperate to be touching him, to be connected to him in the most intimate way. He was her best friend. She trusted him like no one else, he knew things about her no one else did, and she was certain she knew the same kinds of secrets about him. They'd cried on each other's shoulders and supported each other after battles. She'd watched over him in the infirmary at least as many times as he had her. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

He leaned back, easing them to the floor and shoving the chair aside. His tail wrapped around her waist, teasing the hem of her shirt up as she straddled his hips and bent down to kiss him. She could feel him, hard and eager and she inched up his torso until he rolled upright, catching hold of her and kissing her with a passion that took her breath away. When he lifted his lips from hers, they were both panting.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her carefully to her feet.

She followed him, her hand in his, trusting him to guide her in the dark, not bothering to phase. She wanted to feel the warmth of his hand in hers. He grabbed the candle and set it on the table beside the bed. Kitty moved it to the far side of the room, and he chuckled.

“Good idea,” he said as they reached for each other again.

Kitty raked her hands up and down his back, sliding under his shirt to feel the velvet of his fur under her fingers. He pulled her hips against his and coiled his tail around them. He sucked at her lower lip then kissed down the curve of her neck, her hands dragging the hem of his shirt up and skimming over hard muscles. His name was a whisper on her lips, in fear of waking their neighbors, sandwiched as they were between the two other rooms, walls thinner than most. Doug would be annoyed, but Piotr, she never knew what he might do. He was best dealt with in the light of day, with a lot of room to move.

Kurt paused only long enough to tug his shirt over his head, and then hers, when she raised her arms for him. Kitty put her hands against his chest, flattening the fuzz as she drew them down and kissed him. He unhooked her bra and she shook it off her shoulders. He dropped to his knees, kissing her belly as he worked her leggings down to her ankles, then kissed a path up her leg.

She grasped his hair, no soft caress this time, holding herself steady while his mouth traveled over her thighs and hips, thick fingers rolling the waist of her panties down lower and lower until they fell to the floor. He murmured something she couldn't hear over the pounding of blood in her ears and she felt his breath between her legs. She trembled as he drew one finger up the center of her, and she whined.

He stood up quickly, taking her into his arms and spinning to lay her on the bed behind him. He wiggled out of his pants with haste, and stretched alongside her. Pulling his mouth back to hers with one hand behind his neck, she kissed him.

When she reached down, he angled his hips, and her hands closed over him, smooth as satin, skin sliding with her hand as he moaned in her ear. His tongue was hot as it flicked over her nipple and down her abdomen. She didn't think she could stand to wait for him, until his mouth closed over her and he lifted her hips slightly and there was nothing but the feel of his mouth on her body. She pulled at the sheets and quivered in pleasure when she came, grasping for some part of him she could hold on to. He put his hand in hers and she urged him up to lie beside her.

He propped himself on one elbow, his tail swirling gently around her breast until she leaned up to kiss him again. When she opened her legs for him, he didn't hesitate, sliding inside and then slowing, drawing out the sensation.

“Kurt,” she begged.

He thrust again and she hooked her legs around him. In the back of her mind, she realized the bed was a little noisy, the walls were thin, and Piotr was on the other side, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was Kurt, the motion of his body in hers, the sound of his soft grunting at her shoulder, and the way he felt against her skin.

He rolled over next to her, spent, and pulled her onto her side, kissing at her face and playing with her hair. Beads of sweat stuck to his forehead, caught in the fuzz where his hairline started. The dimming candlelight flickered and reflected in the droplets, but disappeared in his golden eyes.

Kitty felt a surge of affection for him, years of loving him as a friend and loving him in secret finally colliding. She wanted to fold him into herself to keep him close. She pressed closer, draping one leg over his.

“What is your verdict?” he said, winding his tail around her calf and settling his hips into the dip of hers.

“Verdict on what? Your performance?”

He laughed uneasily, “Eh, no. I meant, about change. _This_ change, specifically. You and me.”

“Oh,” she said, lips twitching up in a mischievous smile. “So...you don't want to know if I enjoyed myself?”

“I—well, of course I do, but...you don't—”

Kitty stretched up a little to kiss his lips, and became distracted there longer than she intended. She could see in his eyes when she stopped that he was waiting for her answer.

“I think it's too soon to say if the change is good, but tonight certainly was. So, I think I'll just have to do some more research into this new situation. Frequent research. Thorough research.” She kissed his jaw and his neck and slid her hand over his back.

“I'm always happy to help you with your work,” he said.

  
  


By morning, the storm was working its way inland, dissipating as it went. There was still a heavy wind off the water, but the rain had stopped and they could resume their mission, to Piotr's relief.

Neither Doug nor Piotr said a word about Kurt emerging from Kitty's bedroom in the same clothes he'd been wearing the day before, but Kitty didn't miss the look on Piotr's face. She waited for something terrible to happen, but it never did.

They scrounged up some breakfast, nearly stale instant oatmeal packets, and sat around the coffee table to eat it. Doug had reopened all the windows, and if she concentrated, Kitty could hear the ocean. After she finished her oatmeal, she went onto the porch and let the wind whip her hair loose from her ponytail again. Kurt joined her a few minutes later, folding her up in his arms and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Are you cold?” he said.

“No, not yet.”

“The ocean is still rough. Look at the foam.”

“It's nothing like yesterday. The waves are a lot smaller. I think most of the foam is from yesterday, too.”

He rocked slightly back and forth with her, hugging her tight in his arms and kissing her hair now and then.

“The ocean has changed,” he said. “It is never the same as the day before.”

“Are you making a point?” she said, turning in his arms to hold him.

“We were both uneasy about taking this step. Making such a big change. You said it was too soon to tell, but I think...in spite of what is different, much is still the same.”

“The ocean is always the ocean after all.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly. “We are still the same people, the same friends, _ja_?”

“Yes,” she said, kissing him back. “That hasn't changed at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen The 'Burbs, with Tom Hanks and Carrie Fisher, you might enjoy it. It's a comedy. Not even close to scary. :-)
> 
> The title is from Tracy Lawrence's song Time Marches On. "The only thing that stays the same is, everything changes, everything changes." I've always loved that line.


End file.
